


I stumble and I fall (carry me through)

by yukirei



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:12:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukirei/pseuds/yukirei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Erwin breaks, Armin's there to help pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I stumble and I fall (carry me through)

**Author's Note:**

> that one thing in chapter 49 that's a spoiler, that's literally the only spoiler here. please enjoy!  
> beta'ed by the lovely [sei](http://yoamushi.tumblr.com)  
> title is from Superchick's Crawling (Carry me through)

It's funny how one trivial incident can be enough to push you past the breaking point.  
  
He's gone through years in the Survey Corps, seen countless of his men, his comrades die because of his decisions. And while it's one of these decisions that costs him his  _goddamned_  arm, it's his pen slipping out of his left hand that breaks him.  
  
He's been back on duty for a month now. Approximately two months after getting his arm chewed off by a Titan, the transition of switching to his left hand has been troublesome at best. There are times when he forgets and tries to reach for something, thinking of his right hand grasping it but then he remembers that there's nothing beneath the shoulder. Just a useless stump that can't actively do anything. The thought sends his stomach clenching, like nervousness and hate rolling in the acid, threatening to force its way up, wanting to engulf his remaining dignity.  
  
There had been assurances, of course; that he was still their commander, that he'll get back on his feet in no time, that he's still a stubborn ass even with only one arm and he takes it all in with a nod and a polite smile because though they mean well, they cannot  _understand_.  
  
They can't understand how when he wakes and tries to sit up, he falls over because the balance is all wrong. How for the first few days when the adrenaline is gone, all that's left is exhaustion and pain. How he couldn't eat on his own without spilling his food everywhere. How his handwriting now resembles that of a toddler learning how to write, a barely legible scrawl on official reports.

He laughs, bitter and choked, eyes blurring as he looks at the pen lying on the floor (mocking, Erwin swears it's mocking him) when it should've been in his hand.  
  
He shuts his eyes unwilling to cry. He remembers the few precious seconds of uncertainty and worry on Levi's face when he collapsed the moment they were within the safety of the walls. He remembers feeling light-headed, the consequence of blood loss finally catching up to him; remembers Levi's arms around him, the panicked call of his name not quite reaching his ears.  
  
The first time he wakes up, Levi's expression is schooled into a stoic one. While he's the most silent out of all those who care about his well being, barely a word of worry after his second day of recovery, he doesn't leave Erwin's side, much like a constant shadow that glowers at anyone who poses as a hindrance to Erwin's rest.  
  
He's thankful for it but honestly there's something galling about having Levi hover around him like a mother hen. How low had he sunk that even Levi deemed him unfit to take care of himself, he wonders. This is what has become of the leader of the Survey Corps.  
  
In the silence, he can hear Hange's voice in his head giving reassurances to the other soldiers. He'll be okay, she tells them. Recovery won't be a problem for him, he's the commander, after all. But the look she gives him belies her words, a fear she doesn't voice, as if waiting for the worst case scenario to happen.   
  
There's too much hope riding on him, it's crushing in his lungs, like broken ribs jabbing into flesh.  
  
Blindly, he grabs something on his desk, it's hard, solid with a comforting weight in his palm. His fingers curl around it and before he knows it, he sends the object flying. It crashes into the wall with a splintering sound and it's comforting. The sound of being broken,  _something else_  being broken is comforting.  
  
So he does it again, grabbing his desk lamp by the neck and throwing it to the wall. The fluttering papers don't make a satisfying sound so he makes it up for them with an agonized sob as he shoves them off his desk.  
  
Desk bare, he moves on to a potted plant just a few steps away from and pushes it off its perch. It breaks with a loud crash around his feet. It's almost therapeutic. He pants, hand clenching, he can feel a slight throb around the stump, he thinks he's aggravated the healing wound but couldn't bring himself to care.   
  
He heads for the books on the shelves, well-loved and  _whole,_  and he rips them out of the shelves recklessly, tearing a page, leaving marks on leather binding, spines ruined as they thud to the floor.  
  
He swallows hard when he sees the pen on the floor, an anger, irrational he knows, burning in him. He grabs it, ignoring the broken shards of pottery surrounding it and then turns to hurl it at the door, except   
  
He stops when he realizes that the door is open and a blonde boy stands at the doorway, wary eyes scanning his office, a stack of paper in his arms. Armin Arlert, his shiny new assistant assigned to him to help with his transition back to work; a glorified caretaker if Erwin's ever asked. Slowly lowering his arm, he breathes in deeply to calm himself, the exhale stuttering and loud to his ears.  
  
Armin looks at the mess then turns his gaze towards him with an unreadable expression. He wonders how he appears to the young soldier, if he's anything a leader should look like. Probably not. He's about to order the boy to never speak of this to anyone and leave when Armin steps in and closes the door behind him.  
  
He doesn't say anything, just watches as Armin walks over to his desk and places the papers on top of it. Armin gives the stack a little pat before he turns around and heads for the door. Erwin thinks he'll leave but is surprised to see him crouch down near the wall. When he stands up, he's holding the lamp and a paperweight in his hands.  
  
He walks back up to the desk, places the lamp, broken bulb and scuffed exterior, near the corner of the table (it's the wrong corner, Erwin thinks) and the dented paperweight on top of the newly-delivered stack of papers.  
  
Armin glances at him like he wants to say something and Erwin's hand (his only hand) tightens around the pen. He waits but a moment later Armin is kneeling beside the desk gathering the scattered papers. Armin pauses every so often, eyes scanning the reports and paperwork before he slips it in with the pile in his arms.  
  
"Arlert."  
  
Armin stops, hand hovering over the paper he was reaching for. "Yes, sir?" His voice quiet, and Erwin doesn't hear any pity, just the usual tone when addressing a superior officer.   
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Picking up the reports, sir. It's no use to anyone on the floor."  
  
Erwin forgets sometimes that this boy has a tongue sharp enough to rival even senior officers. He walks back to his chair, slumping into it with a sigh.  
  
"It must be disheartening to see your commander like this." He says, trying to laugh but only a tired huff escapes him. "One-armed and throwing a tantrum like a child."  
  
Armin moves to the books on the floor, gingerly dusting them off before reshelving them. "It's not." He murmurs, tone chilly but his hands are gentle as they cradle the mistreated books. The seconds pass by and Erwin wonders if he should prompt the boy to explain but Armin reshelves the last book with extra care before he finally speaks. "It makes you more human."  
  
"It that a compliment?"  
  
"It's a statement, sir."  
  
Erwin lets out a puff of breath, a beginning of a laugh that dies prematurely and his lips quirk into a wry smile. "Then tell me, is being more human a good thing? How do you feel about following a one-armed human into war with the Titans? Would you follow someone who's less than whole?" Erwin doesn't even care that his voice has gone sharp and derisive, the anger seeping in again.  
  
Armin stands up straight, lips pressing into a tight line, brows furrowing slightly. He looks at Erwin, gaze so direct that Erwin thinks he can make out every shade of blue that make up Armin's eyes.  
  
"I already have." The response startles Erwin and all he can do is stare but Armin isn't done speaking yet. "I've fought with you after you had your arm torn off. You weren't any less of a leader that time than any other."  
  
Armin steps closer, stops a few feet in front of him (Erwin thinks how easily he could reach out and grab him, he can do it even with just his left arm), and says, "I would follow you into war even now."  
  
Armin's voice, soft but adamant, spurs Erwin to move; he grabs the slim, pale wrist in his left hand and tugs, Armin tips forward but manages to catch himself. "Why? Why would you? I could get you killed." Erwin hisses, suddenly angry at Armin's loyalty.  
  
"You could." Armin agrees while reaching out. It's a tentative touch, Armin's hand resting on curve of his right shoulder, not quite grasping, fingers curled loosely around the muscle. "But it would mean something. You wouldn't allow a meaningless death. The loss of a limb wouldn't change that."  
  
"But it would change the chances." Erwin argues. He doesn't really know what he's doing. He wants Armin to tell him that he's going to be horrible, to confirm his fears of inadequacy. And then what?  
  
"So we change them back." Armin's grip tightens. "If our commander losing his arm means we're put at a disadvantage then we find another way to even the odds. That's what we've been doing, isn't it? That's how survival works."  
  
Armin stares at him intently. Erwin notices the way Armin's gaze flicks to his lips, pupils dilating, before it meets his eyes again like darkened skies and it sends a dangerous thrill up his spine. "Arlert." He murmurs, his hand moving on its own accord, reaching out to tangle his fingers in the gold strands framing Armin's face.  
  
In respone, Armin leans in closer, hands shifting to rest on both of Erwin's shoulders. Erwin feels them spread against cloth and muscles, not large enough to span the width of it. His own hand moves to lightly cup the side of Armin's face, thumb brushing against the corner of his lips. "Arlert." _Closer_ , he thinks and Armin obeys even without hearing it. He can feel the boy's breath warm against his skin, Armin's lips hovering a hair's breadth away his own (how he desperately wants it somewhere else), his thumb slipping in past pliant lips.   
  
" _Sir._ "  
  
Erwin inhales sharply, skin prickling like he's been doused in cold water, reality forcing its way into his mind. Reality that this is  _Armin Arlert_ ; a soldier under his command, a  _young_  soldier under his command. His eyes refocuses and he sees how young the face so close (so temptingly  _close_ ) to his is, honey lashes fanned against pale skin and lips slightly parted, waiting, trusting.  
  
"Arlert." He says, voice tight. He pulls away, the squeak of his chair moving under their pressing weight echoes in the quiet room.  
  
Armin's eyes snap open, confusion and need reflecting in darkened blues. He straightens himself but doesn't move away, expression shifting from questioning to thwarted.  
  
Erwin clears his throat. Armin stiffens and Erwin can feel guilt flooding in him. "At ease." He mutters, hand instinctively reaching to calm but he pulls back before he can touch the boy. He doesn't think he should touch him right now ( _or ever_ , his conscience whispers).  
  
He clears his throat again. "I apologize." He says and watches Armin's expression change, a flicker of surprise before settling into confusion, then continues. "That was...unseemly of me to act without thought. I hope you will forgive my poor behavior."  
  
There's a brief silence that reigns, a flash of something akin to disappointment crossing Armin's face before he shakes his head lightly. "It's no trouble, sir." He says, tone serious. "I'm here to assist you after all."  
  
Erwin gives him a polite smile as he shifts his chair closer to the table. There certainly is something he'd wish Armin to assist with but he doesn't think it would be a wise decision to voice. "I appreciate it." He says, voice a little strained.  
  
Armin eyes him, looking like he just gave a defeated sigh without actually doing so with his shoulders drooping slightly. His gaze flicks to the stack of papers on Erwin's table and to the pen lying beside it. "Shall I take care of your reports for now, sir? It's better if you don't overwork your hand too much."  
  
Erwin looks at the pen, wanting to defiantly grab it and start writing his reports as if writing left-handed was the most natural thing but he glances at Armin and sighs. "Yes, that would be great."  
  
He ends up staring when Armin gives him a smile, the light of it spreading around him like honeyed sunshine pouring through a window pane and caressing skin, pleasant and warm. "How about some tea first? Perhaps a light snack to accompany it? I've noticed you missed meals today and it's not advisable to work on an empty stomach."  
  
Still a little entranced, Erwin nods while muttering his thanks. He watches as Armin salutes, a smile in place before he turns to leave with the promise of returning with tea and snacks.

**Author's Note:**

>  **OMAKE**  
>  because me and sei talked about ending it in sexual frustration for armin  
> \--------
> 
> The smile drops once the door to the commander's office shuts close. Armin sighs, long and defeated as he strides off to procure food.
> 
> He meets his best friend along the way. Eren waved energetically at him to catch his attention.
> 
> "What's with that sour face you got?" It's his way of greeting and Armin responds with a glare. Eren throws his hands up in a sign of defense. "You're in a bad mood, okay, I get it."
> 
> "I came from the commander's office." Armin says without preamble.
> 
> "Oh?" Eren tilts his head to the side, a look of confusion on his face. "Why's that got you so mad, then? Did the commander tell you off or something?"
> 
> "He didn't kiss me." Armin grumbles, arms crossing against his chest.
> 
> Eren nods sagely. "Oh yeah, okay I see why that wou-- wait. What?" Eren stares incredulously at Armin, eyes comically wide and mouth gaping open. "You? And the commander? You want to kiss him? He's _old_."
> 
> "I want to do more than kiss him." Armin mutters and when Eren looks scandalized he skewers his best friend with a look that says "don't give me that bullshit". "Don't think I don't know you about you and the Corporal"
> 
> Eren denies it with a fluster but he turns red to the tips of his ears and Armin knows he's lying.


End file.
